Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I had totally forgotten. I’m horrible at keeping track of functions. I miss half the appointments I schedule because I simply forget to put them in that handy-dandy little calendar on my iPhone.
Moreover, I probably subconsciously didn’t put it in my phone and have been consciously ignoring her texts because while I love my sister, and I’m proud of her for this big show she’s putting on, there is no place I would rather avoid than an art gallery filled with rich, obnoxious people dressed in five-figure dresses and bidding insane amounts of money on ugly paintings.
“Fallon.” The pleading in my eyes matches my tone. “I’m so sorry. But I forgot and unfortunately—”
She cuts me off mid-excuse with a hand held up, palm facing me. Her voice has its own pleading tone. “You promised, Finley.”
My gaze drops. I had indeed promised. At the time, I got sucked in because she was begging me to come, wanting her sister by her side. She guilted me, and, yes, I promised.
“You know, Finley,” she continues, her voice getting softer by the word. “I try so hard to keep a relationship going with you, but you make it so difficult. I try to let go of all the things you do to show me I’m not important enough in your life, like ignoring all my dinner invitations. But this is incredibly important. I don’t ask a lot of you, but I am asking you to uphold your promise to me.”
There’s no getting around it. I’m well and truly committed to this event. I don’t break promises, and I do want to show my support. Our mother died in childbirth and while we never developed that twin bond so many people marvel over, Fallon developed somewhat of a mothering role. She took good care of me growing up because, despite being only two minutes older, she seemed infinitely wiser. And, because our dad could be unreliable at times, it was often Fallon who made sure there was dinner on the table and milk in the fridge.
So yes, I will suck it up and go for her.
Reaching across the table, I grab her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m a bitch and hard to pin down, but yes… I will absolutely go tonight.”
Her face softens, a smile breaking wide in relief. “Thank you.”
Pulling my hand away, I motion to my body. “I can wear this, right? Because I’ll have to come straight from work.”
Fallon sniffs, grimacing at my outfit. “Under no uncertain terms can you wear that.”
“You know I don’t have anything appropriate.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re the same size,” she replies easily. “Be at my condominium at five, and I’ll put you in one of my gowns.”
“I have to wear a gown?” I ask in horror.
“And heels,” she adds maliciously.
Groaning dramatically, I drop my forehead to the table. I pray for strength before looking back up at her. “Why do I have to be there so early? The show doesn’t start until eight.”
“Because I have to be at the gallery well before then, and it’s going to take a bit of time to do your hair and makeup. I can’t have my sister looking like a street rat.”
“Hair and makeup,” I exclaim, making an exaggerated faux moan of discomfort for effect. “Fallon… you’re killing me here.”
At that, she laughs, and it’s a beautiful thing. Patrons to our right actually turn to look at her, and I take a moment to enjoy this lighthearted moment with my sister. We don’t have many these days, only for the fact we both lead very busy and very different lives.
Having my promise in person while looking her dead in the eye, Fallon’s work here is done. She rises from the table, and I do the same. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, she steps around and pulls me into a hug. I’m shocked because Fallon’s not the hugging type, so I’m stiff and straight-armed for a moment. It feels right and wrong at the same time when you’re not used to it.
I’ve often wondered if the fact we’re fraternal and not identical is why we never twin bonded. Or maybe it’s because of our father, the man I loved more than anything and who Fallon could barely stand at times. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven him for taking his life, and I’m fairly sure she resented our bond that seemed to survive even his passing.
Which means, at times, I think she resented me.
And maybe… I resented her for not loving our father the way I did, but she just couldn’t accept his shortcomings. He was too much of an embarrassment to her.
Yes, our family was dysfunctional, and then it was split apart when our father shot himself. You would think in times like that, Fallon and I would cling to each other, but instead, it caused us to drift a little farther apart. I was lost without my papa, and she couldn’t understand the level of my grief. Add to that the stress of living with an unknown relative until we turned of age, by the time we became adults, Fallon and I led vastly different lives.
She went on to college, got a Bachelor of Fine Arts, and opened an incredibly beautiful and well-frequented art gallery. Fallon’s engaged to a wealthy attorney, and she lives in a luxury condominium. She is the epitome of success.
By contrast, I dropped out of college in my sophomore year, having no real ambition to do anything. I felt lost and adrift, and while Fallon encouraged me to stay the course, I just didn’t feel college was the right path. Instead, I took my portion of the inheritance from my father that was supposed to be for college and used it to buy Fallon out of her one-half ownership interest in the family home. She told me I was crazy, and yet I knew in my heart it was the right decision. Still, she didn’t talk to me for weeks after that.
As a college dropout, I drifted from job to job, never staying anywhere for more than six months. I’ve worked jobs as varied as a delivery driver to selling makeup—which is where I met Rainey—to being a check-in clerk at a gym.
Then six years ago, I walked into One Bean because I thought the marquis lights above the door looked cool, and I was hoping for a decent cup of coffee. I struck up a conversation with the owner, Rich Cardello, thoroughly enjoying his wit and sarcastic humor. I came back again and again until he finally offered me a job.
Six years later, I’m the general manager of the shop and still, it’s so very inadequate compared to the success of the lovely creature hugging me tight.
At least, that’s how I feel when I’m in her presence.
When I’m not around my crazily successful and put together sister, I feel good about my life and where I am. Maybe that’s why I don’t hang with her as much as she’d like—because she makes me consider the awful possibility I could be more.
Fallon’s hands grip my shoulders, and she stares at me pointedly. “You promise you’ll be at my condo by five?”
“I promise,” I reply emphatically, making a mental note to call Rich to let him know I’ll need to leave a bit early. He won’t care because I rarely miss work and I always bust my ass.
Fallon gives me one last smile—and yes, I can see some skepticism in it—and then she strides out with her designer soy drink in hand.
* * *
As the general manager of One Bean, I used to work eight to five with my assistant managers under me working split shifts to cover the hours before and after. Over the past six months, though, Rich has been spending more time away and has turned over more of the business responsibilities to me to handle.